Page 36 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"Call me if anything changes," I say, my voice sounding hoarse even to my own ears.

Oz nods, his eyes still fixed on Vesper like she’ll disappear again right in front of him again.

VESPER

I'm floating,drifting through a haze of colors and shadows. The drugs coursing through my veins paint vivid pictures in my mind, beautiful and terrifying all at once. One moment, I'm soaring above the glittering skyline of Boston, my blonde hair whipping in the wind, feeling invincible. The next, I'm plummeting into darkness, icy fingers of fear clawing at my chest.

The nightmares come in flashes, memories distorted by the chemicals. I see my father's cold eyes as he tells me of my fate and hear the cruel laughter of the Petrov men as they discusstheir plans for me. My wrists burn where rough hands grabbed me, and I can still taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth from biting my lip to keep from screaming.

As the drug-induced visions swirl around me, a new horror takes shape. I see myself, a shadow of who I once was, trailing behind Dmitri Petrov like a broken doll. My eyes are vacant, my spirit crushed. I watch helplessly as this future version of myself endures unspeakable acts, each one chipping away at my soul until there's nothing left but an empty shell. It changes, flipping to The Shadow Man. The way his hands felt on my legs. His threats. Then, it shifts again, to a white room where I am lying on a hospital bed, legs spread and chained to stirrups, as they steal piece after piece of my body from me until I vanish into nothingness.

Slowly, agonizingly, the fog begins to lift. My senses return one by one, each bringing a new realization. The soft sheets beneath me are unfamiliar, the air heavy with the scent of sandalwood and something darker, more primal. My eyes flutter open, struggling to focus in the dimly lit room. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

I've been delivered to my new owner like a package, and now I'm here to be unwrapped and used as he sees fit. My heart races as I try to take in my surroundings, my limbs still heavy and uncooperative.

That's when I see him. A figure standing in the shadowy corner of the room, watching me. I can't make out his features in the low light, but I can feel his eyes on me, watching, assessing. Terror grips me, stealing the breath from my lungs. I want to run, to fight, to scream, but my body won't cooperate. I'm trapped here, helpless, at the mercy of whoever this man might be and whatever he intends to do with me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing this to be another drug-induced nightmare. But when I open them again, he's still there. Silent. Watchful. Waiting.

My mind races, searching for a way out of this nightmare. But deep down, I know the truth. There is no escape. This is my new reality, and I have no choice but to face it head-on. Whatever comes next, I'll have to find a way to survive it. To keep my spirit intact, even as fractured as it is.

My mouth is dry, my voice barely a whisper as I croak out, "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The man takes a step forward, and I instinctively shrink back against the headboard, my body trembling. He stops, holding up his hands in what might be a placating gesture, but I'm too scared to trust it.

"Easy, Vesper," he says, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. "You're safe here. We're not going to hurt you."

We? My eyes dart around the room, searching for other hidden threats. The man seems to sense my panic and takes a small step back.

“I’m the only one in here,” he assures me. “The others are outside.” He steps closer. Too close. Close enough that I can see him better. He's tall, broad-shouldered, a looming presence that sends shivers down my spine. But there's something in his voice, a familiar cadence that tugs at the edges of my memory.

I shake my head violently, pressing myself further against the headboard. The cool wood digs into my back, grounding me in this terrifying reality. "No, please," I whimper, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don't come any closer. Don't touch me."

My eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, a weapon, anything. The room is sparsely furnished. Only the bed I'm on, a nightstand, and a chair in the corner make up the room. The curtains are drawn, blocking out any hint of the worldbeyond. I feel like I'm suffocating, trapped in this unfamiliar space with this unknown man.

"Please," I beg, my voice cracking. "Just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just please don't hurt me."

The man stops his approach, his hands still raised in that placating gesture. "Vesper, listen to me," he says, his voice steady and calm. "You're not a prisoner here. Look."

He gestures towards my hands and feet, and for the first time, I realize I'm not bound. There are no ropes, no handcuffs, nothing holding me in place except my own fear. I flex my fingers experimentally, half expecting to feel the bite of restraints.

"The door isn't locked either," he continues, nodding towards the exit. "You could walk out right now if you wanted to. But I can't let you leave until I know you're okay."

I stare at him, disbelief warring with hope in my chest. Could it be true? Am I really free to go?

"I don't understand," I murmur, my eyes flicking between the man and the door. "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

He takes a deep breath, then slowly moves to sit in the chair, putting more distance between us. I feel some of the tension leave my body at this small act of consideration.

"My name is Oscar," he says softly. "You know me.”

"No," I whisper, shaking my head violently. "No, you're lying. This is a trick.”

“We aren’t trying to trick you.”

My mind whirls, trying to process Oscar’s words. Friends? Outside? I strain my ears, listening for any sound beyond the room, but all I can hear is silence, and the pounding of my own heart. The silence is oppressive, making me feel just as I had with The Shadow Man. “I don’t believe you.” I think back to The Shadow Man’s words. New owners. The horrible, unspeakablethings he thought they’d do to my body. “You want to hurt me…like The Shadow Man did.”

Oscar's face contorts, a mix of emotions flashing across his features. His jaw clenches, and I see a muscle twitch in his cheek. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes, darken with what I can only describe as barely contained rage.

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